Visions
by Nixi Who
Summary: As Flora begins seeing visions of the future, more than the Professor's curiosity is piqued when Flora has a vision of something very bad happening to Luke. But perhaps Flora's talent can help? Just when everything begins to fit itself together, the visions take a vicious toll on Flora. Can Flora hold on until she sees the vision that will save Luke's life.


**AN: Re-uploaded for the third/fourth time. Hopefully the same won't happen again. Apologies for the repetitiveness and inconvenience.**

**I of course do not own Professor Layton. Then it wouldn't be fanfiction, would it? It would just be Professor Layton.**

Visions

Chapter One

A blur of orange flames swirled and sizzled around an infinite black tunnel, creating an iridescent glow that burnt into a bright golden glow that jumped off the empty darkness. The ember light fizzled as it echoed back and forth; vanishing and then reappearing a fraction of a second later, as fire curled up and down, biting at the already polluted air. There was nothing but the coils of fire. An entire world had been engulfed and destroyed by the burning light- and now nothing was left, yet the flames were still hungry. They danced and swam like an animal that had just been freed from its cage, after an eternity of being trapped and isolated from the rest of the world. Now, it's attack had began and seemed to never want to end. Even after conquering all that was possible, it wasn't enough.

Although the flames were surely, most definitely there, that was the only evidence that the fire ran through the air like a dog without a lead. Neither was there the rasping heat that prickled and stung the skin like nettles. And neither was there the suffocating, surrounding smell of smoke, that choked an airway like a rope around the neck. For there was no sound of the flames curdling and crackling, searching the darkness for more food to burn to a crisp. Nothing to sense but the sight of the flames. As if the eye was right up against the top of the candle. However, wasn't that evidence enough? Perhaps. Still… Wasn't that strange?

"Flora!"

It was then a voice seemed to call through the curdling fire. An alarmed, yet faint sounding voice…

The fire disappeared. It was sudden and without warning; the flames didn't slowly disappear- nor were they extinguished by a sudden burst of rain or a shuttle of foam from a fire extinguisher. They were gone and all that was left was a world of darkness. A shot into what nothing was like. A hint of death. A sliver of knowing what there was left, once everything else was gone…

"Flora!"

The voice called again- this time louder. Then there was a sudden burst of light and an iridescent sea of white, gold and silver light seemed to smash into the darkness, like a stone through a glass window. The brightness was only there a couple of seconds, before it seemed to fly away in all different directions and the cream painted ceiling seemed to hover above the ground.

Flora Reinhold's bloodshot eyes snapped open like the mouth of a snake ready to pounce; the rest of her tall, slim figure trembling with fearful and confused, ragged breaths. Blinking, the sight of her English teacher, Mrs McCaster, crouched down beside her. The teacher's eyes were narrowed and full of concern, squinting at Flora through her framed spectacles as if she were an object such as a vase, that had already fallen to the ground, but not yet shattered into an oblivion. It soon occurred to Flora that the voice calling her name must have been Mrs McCaster.

As her memory and understanding of the current situation slowly seemed to fold itself together, like a puzzle that seemed far too difficult at one glance and then easy at the next, Flora slowly began to sit up, pushing herself up with her arms. However, the middle-aged teacher gently lowered Flora back down with a firm push on her torso.

"No, Flora. Don't move, wait until Matron get here," Mrs McCaster told the young girl, as Flora's head once again met her cold, hard floorboards. She winced as she did so, she just have hit her head hard on the floor.

"Wha-what happened…?" Flora asked. It took several tries for Flora to be able to speak. Not only did her throat feel dry, but also did she seem to have a lump stuck in her throat that the words stuck themselves to, hanging on for dear life.

"You've fainted, dear," Mrs McCaster told her. "Right in the middle of my lecture about Anne Frank, I feared you'd fallen asleep due to finding the topic dull."

Flora found the teacher's attempt at humour rather strange and although she knew that McCaster's efforts were ones with good intentions, it appeared to have the opposite effect. Flora knew, for she was an observant, young girl, that people were always kind to those who had something to worry about. For instance, some months back, one of Flora's classmates, who was both dim and lacked effort in classes, lost their Mother and ever since, the teacher's had given the particular student no detentions of the homework or lesson work was not completed to a good standard, or even not even attempted the task. Besides, a teacher such as Mrs McCaster, who certainly was as strict as they came- for all the students feared her hawk-eyes gaze and climb of her heeled-boots on the wooden flooring- trying to sooth someone, let alone attempting a joke, was an event of its own! Also, Flora noticed her English teacher calling her "dear": never had Flora heard her use a term of endearment to address a student before.

Yet, although many thoughts raced through Flora's mind, she was barely able to string a sentence together.

"F-fainted?" Flora stuttered, her tampered voice caused by trembles both from her fear and health. Flora wasn't immune of course, for she actually had a rather poor immune system after growing up in a town such as St. Mystere, and had suffered many colds, especially upon her arrival to London, however she had never been extremely ill. And never before had she collapsed! In addition, both Flora's parents had perished due to sickness. Was it possible that their illnesses were hereditary and she was now becoming dreadfully ill?

"Yes, dear," the English teacher nodded, "But you're perfectly all right."

Somehow, Flora doubted Mrs McCaster's words.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur for Flora; she seemed to be in a slight daze as if she were still unconscious. The brunette rarely spoke when the school nurse arrived in the classroom. She took Flora's pulse, looked in her eyes and checked her temperature, before helping her down to the infirmary and calling the Professor. Even when the Professor arrived (which entailed him rushing through the door at such a speed his hand was gripping to the brim of his tophat) at the school office to take his adopted daughter home, Flora remained quiet- only nodding when the Professor asked her, in a rather hasty, worried tone, if she was all right. With instructions from the school nurse to keep a close eye on Flora for the next twenty-four hours and if there were any more problems he was to call for medical attention immediately, the Professor led Flora out of the school with a supporting arm around her shoulder.

"We'll get you home, eh, Flora," the Professor said with a smile in his voice as he opened the passenger door of the Laytonmobile for her. "Perhaps some bed rest will do you good? Exhaustion could have been what caused it."

"Yes. Maybe…" The brunette replied with a small shrug and she sat down on the leather seats.

The Professor frowned slightly, noticing Flora's short replies. It was obvious that she was distracted and that was completely understandable. The Professor, too, was deeply worried, but was certain it was nothing. After all, the school nurse had said there was no problems with her vital signs. It was most likely low blood sugar. Or heat exhaustion, perhaps? After all, it was a warm, late Spring day and the Professor knew all too well what sitting in stuffy classrooms all day was like. The archaeologist let out a sigh as he got into the red mini's driver's seat.

"Are you sure you're all right, dear? No other symptoms? Tiredness, nausea, dizziness, perhaps?" The Professor questioned, glancing at the teenager.

"Hmm…" Flora thought for a second, turning to lean her brow on the cool pane of the window. "My head hurts…"

"Did you perhaps hit your head when you collapsed?" The Professor raised an eyebrow.

"No…" Flora answered, "It's been hurting all day."

The Professor frowned and turned his attention to the steering wheel as he turned on the ignition.

"Then we most definitely better get you home, dear."

Flora didn't reply. She'd already fallen asleep.

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**AN: Reviews are most appreciated. **

**~Nixi**


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